IS
by Moonsetta
Summary: Sequel to IT. Now IT IS a problem.
1. IS

**Title:** IS

**Author:** Moonsetta

**Date Posted:** October 20th, 2013 (Happy Birthday to Me! Happy Birthday to Me!)

**Note:** Once again there are no pairings or even romance in this story. It's all in good humor for the hilarity of the situation. I'm working on a third part too it'll be called 'IF' so…we'll see.

* * *

"You could just have a wedding and then get a divorce," Clark Kent suggested while he sat at the breakfast bar within the kitchen area of Wayne Manor.

"We are not getting married!" both Bruce and Dick Grayson said at the exact same time.

The two were sitting across from the reporter at the breakfast bar, thinking very hard. The billionaire had, long ago, pulled out a notepad and pen while the acrobat was rolling an unsharpened pencil back and forth on the bar table. Both were in a tight situation.

A creaking alerted the three to another person entering the room. They all looked over to see Tim walking in with a backpack over his shoulder, obviously ready for school.

"Hey Clark!"

"Good morning Tim."

The young techie looked to his mentor/father and mentor/older brother, "So…any ideas?"

Dick sighed, "Do YOU have any?"

Tim's eyes suddenly glanced around the room suspiciously.

"Alfred took Damian to school," Bruce stated, calming his son's fears.

A sigh of relief was followed by another suggestion, "Why don't you two just have a big fight and break up?"

Clark raised his hand slightly, "Uh, I did suggest they get a divorce."

"Clark, they have to be married to get a divorce," Tim reminded the disguised Man of Steel.

Shrug. "So?"

And said Man of Steel was promptly hit by a pen thrown by Bruce Wayne. Clark turned a mocking smile on his old friends, internally roaring in laughter at the look he was getting from the billionaire and the glare he was getting from the acrobat.

"You're enjoying this aren't you?" Dick Grayson said while crossing his arms in defiance.

"Well, it would be wrong to say I'm not."

"Clark!"

The reporter turned to the billionaire in mock surprise, "What? It's funny."

"Only because you're not in it!" Dick protested before sighing and letting silence retake the room.

Strangely it was Tim who broke the silence by walking the rest of the way to the bar and meticulously sitting down next to Clark and across from Bruce.

"Well, at least the rumors among the JLA and Titans should be settling," Dick said as he looked to the side at his mentor.

"Uh, about that," Tim nearly squeaked as guilt marred his features.

"Oh do not tell me!" the acrobat said as he tried to lock his gaze with his little brother's.

"Well, we're trying," Clark said, taking a quick glance at the floor to his left.

"I suggest you try harder," Bruce growled before snatching back the pen he had thrown at Clark earlier and placing it back on to the notepad where he hadn't actually written anything.

In the next second Dick perked up again, a curious frown on his face, "Well, it shouldn't be too hard. We fight all the time!"

Bruce uncharacteristically sighed as he heard the front door open, "Might as well try it. We have nothing to lose."

"Master Tim, time for school!"

"Coming Alfred! Bye guys and good luck."

Why would they need good luck?

* * *

OK. Fighting? Easy, doable, and completely believable.

…for most people anyways.

It wasn't particularly hard for Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson to have an argument given that the two had had plenty to argue about over the years. But nooooooooo...

Damian no like.

That's why both Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson were locked in one of the utility closets in the Bat Cave within merely hours of having a fake 'breaking-up' fight lacking any and every means of communication or escape.

"This is your fault," Dick pouted as he leaned back against what felt like a mop.

"I fail to see -ouch!- how this is MY fault," Bruce muttered as he finally managed to locate a flashlight after bumping his head on a shelf and give the duo some visibility.

"I don't know how but it's still all your fault."

"Whatever," Bruce said with a shrug and glanced towards door's lock.

"He already took it out," the acrobat said in a sing-song voice.

And the hole had been filled with some type of hardened metal. The billionaire gazed at it intently before reaching out and knocking at it with his knuckles. Solid.

"I believe it's some kind of mixture of lead and titanium," Bruce muttered before he turned back to his companion.

"Your son is evil," Dick said, glancing back at the object he was leaning against.

So he had been right, it was a mop. The younger man shoved the cleaning tool away with a huff before turning back to his mentor.

"So, what's the plan?"

"Simple and uncomplicated," Bruce said professionally before he turned and began beating on the steel door, "SOMEONE GET US OUT OF HERE!"

"That's your plan?" Dick said with a raised eyebrow.

"It's worked before. If we're lucky Tim or Alfred will find us in the next few hours."

The World's Greatest Acrobat sighed, running his hands through his hair in frustration, "Fine. So what until then?"

"We could just...talk."

"YOU want to talk? OK, do you prefer red or white wine?" Dick asked with a sarcastic smirk.

"What kind of question is that?" Bruce mirrored his companion's earlier expression by raising a single eyebrow.

The sarcasm didn't leave Dick's face, "Hey I'm just getting details hammered out. Don't forget, now we're getting married in three weeks instead of three months."

Bruce groaned, "My son is evil."

Just then-the flashlight went out.

"Of course," they both muttered in the now darkened space.

* * *

"I take it that Damian didn't like you two fighting?" Tim asked as he watched both of his mentors stumble out of one of the utility closets in the Bat Cave as Alfred busied himself with the now collapsed towers and shelves of supplies within said closet.

Bruce straitened his stance and reached out to brush away some imaginary dust from the sleeve of his black jacket, "No. He did not take it-well."

"Can't you just talk to him?" the teen asked, looking directly at his mentor/father.

Bruce just glared back.

OK. Short story-it had been one heck of an EPIC FAIL to try to talk with Damian directly.

"What about Talia?" Dick intervened.

"She refuses to talk to me," Bruce muttered as his body seemed to deflate at bearing the news to the others.

"Maybe Selina could do something?" Tim suggested.

"Tried it," the billionaire said and followed it up with a fast but low sounding sigh.

"Yeah, she's enjoying the hilarity of this situation as much as Clark is," the acrobat said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Vicki Vale?"

The teen just received a horrified look from Bruce before the man shook his head sharply.

OK. She was out.

"We've GOT to find a way," Bruce muttered.

* * *

"Oh that's easy!"

Were they really this desperate?

Batman's comm clicked on and he was mentally rampaging against the voice on the other end. If he ran into Guy Gardner in the next 24 hours!

"Hey Batman, I just heard the news! OK, I need details ASAP! Where and when? I've already told the other lanterns and we are so hyped-"

The Dark Knight very non-discretely, pulled his cowl back, slipped the comm out of his ear and crushed it beneath his boot on the rooftop the three were standing on.

Yes, they really were this desperate.

Here he and Nightwing were-conversing with Stephanie Brown-the Spoiler-of all people!

"It's too bad, I was waiting for it to hit the local media," the eggplant purple costumed heroine said with a laugh.

"Do you have any ideas or not!" Batman growled as the cowl re-hid his face once again.

The Spoiler huffed and crossed her arms across her chest in defiance, remaining silent. Another growl escaped the Dark Knight's lips as he took a step forward. Thankfully a hand on his shoulder stopped his advancement.

"We're here to ask for help Batman, yelling at her probably isn't going to convince her to help us out."

Batman muttered something indistinguishable under his breath but did step back nonetheless as Nightwing removed his hand from his mentor's shoulder and turned back to his younger brother's girlfriend.

"Excuse him; it's been quite a stressful few weeks for us. Do you have any ideas that could help us Spoiler?"

"That's better. Your mentor should take a page from you."

Batman growled again as he narrowed his eyes at the girl in a glare that somehow did NOT affect her.

"And your bril-uh!"

"Be nice Batman."

If Nightwing elbowed him in the side one more time!

…But they did need the help.

A sigh, "Alright what do you suggest?"

"A plan that will guarantee lots of anger and resentment!" Spoiler chirped happily as she clapped her hands together in joy that may have been genuine or fake-the detective couldn't distinguish it.

"Do tell," the Dark Knight said slyly.

Beneath her mask, Spoiler smirked. This was going to be so much fun!

* * *

"This was a mistake."

"Oh chin up Bruce it could be worse," Tim said into his homework.

The two were in the den, Bruce strangely pacing the floor while Tim was sitting on one of the large couches with his nose buried in a textbook.

"But why? This makes no sense!"

"Hey, you asked Stephanie for her help," the teen reminded the billionaire.

"Yes, I asked for her help but not to play matchmaker!"

"It won't hurt to try," Tim muttered, finally realizing that he wouldn't get very far into his reading for biology class and closed the book with a sigh.

"It was still a mistake."

Tim shrugged, "If you say so."

* * *

Dick smirked as Bruce paced the expanse of the front foyer, "Come on Old Man, while I'm sure a lot of people would fall for the Batman-Scowl I don't think you look very Bruce Wayne-ish at the moment."

"Is this honestly a good idea?" the billionaire said, stopping his pacing and glancing towards his eldest protégé with near-wild eyes.

His said protégé shrugged, still smirking, "I don't know-but now this situation is actually funny."

"Remind me again why I have to be the one that's 'cheating?'"

"I don't know," the younger man said with an airy sigh and a shrug.

"You're NOT helping!"

Another shrug.

Bruce groaned in annoyance before continuing his pacing.

"Don't worry Bruce, just do your normal Playboy thing, take her to dinner so when you get home I'll come in and get all emotional though I'm certain Alfred's going to be critiquing my every move and word from behind one of his secret cameras."

"What secret cameras?" the billionaire's pacing miraculously stopped again.

"The ones he has hidden throughout the Manor and Batcave."

"Dick, the only cameras here are mine."

"No, I'm convinced Alfred has cameras or sensors at the very least everywhere. And by the way, you mean you haven't noticed the camera Damian put on top of the bookshelf in your room?"

Wait!

"He what?"

"Old Man, you are slipping. I found the one in my room three weeks ago."

"…"

"…"

A sigh escaped Bruce's throat, "My son is evil."

"Yep a regular chip off the ole block!"

Just then, the doorbell rang.

"And that will Ms. One'-have fun on your date Bruce."

"Let's just hope this works."

* * *

"I knew it! I knew this was going to be a disaster!" Batman snarled as his gloved hands flew forwards to grab at the rope that was suspending the widely known fashion model known as Aelita One' 200 feet above the asphalt of Gotham.

He had just barely managed to grab the rope as Damian drove off on his motorcycle screaming at the woman to, 'keep her painted claws away from his father, he was already engaged.'

A window near the now 'screeching' woman opened and a familiar form pulled her inside. The Dark Knight released a sigh of relief as his commlink clicked on.

"I've got her Bats!" Spoiler's voice chirped over the line.

The sound of a moving form made Batman glance behind him as another familiar face landed on the rooftop as well.

"I saw the news," Robin pointed out as he walked towards his mentor/father to glance down the side of the building.

The Dark Knight turned away to continue his talk with Spoiler. Well a short comment anyways.

"Spoiler?"

"Yeah…Boss?"

"This was a terrible idea."

"Not necessarily Boss," the eggplant purple clothed heroine muttered as enthusiastically as she could, "I think someone must have told Damian about this."

"She's right," Robin muttered himself.

Batman turned towards his student sharply, "What happened?"

"Well…um….Jason."

The Dark Knight would have slapped himself in the forehead or face, if it wouldn't have hurt. Jason? Now Jason was in on this? Alright, this was a conspiracy-some high powerful being somewhere had to be making this happen with little to no care to what was befalling them. He'd have to go over his files…aliens, demigods, alternate dimensional visitors, rifts in the space-time continuum, etc…

But first-

"Alfred, when I get up tomorrow do me a favor?" Batman said into his new commlink to the ever loyal Bat-Butler.

"And what would that be sir?"

"Remind me to kill my kids."

A chuckle followed, knowing the irritated joke, "Of course, Sir."

* * *

"No Bruce I haven't, as of late, punched a hole through reality."

"Are you certain Clark? Could you have done it while sleeping?"

"No Bruce. Now its 2:00am in the morning go to sleep."

The billionaire sighed and set down his cell phone on the bedside table. That was the problem-he couldn't sleep! He'd already tried and failed three times. While yes, he wasn't one to give up on anything very easily- this was just deliberately annoying! Knowing sleeping was fruitless endeavor; he got up and headed for his bedroom door, leaving his cell phone behind. He'd used it enough today to annoy him to no end. Maybe a glass of water and some time to think would help. Stepping out into the darkened hallway, the Manor was quiet. Everyone else was asleep-or at least most of them were asleep, Bruce was still a little unnerved about Alfred's sleeping schedule. Hopefully he wouldn't pop out of nowhere with a glass of ice water on his serving tray again. That really freaked him out. Seriously, people wondered where he got it from?

Halfway down the hall Bruce stopped as his ears picked up on soft voices coming from what he recognized as Damian's room. With all of the stealth he could, he crept forward and put his head near the lightened space where the door had been left open about half an inch.

"And then Bruce-"

"Let me guess -my father arrived just in time."

"Actually no, I was technically already dead."

"What!?"

"Shh, we can't wake the others up Damian."

"You were dead?"

OK, time for an interruption. Bruce pushed the door to his youngest son's room open, his pupils shrinking to adjust for the light from the lamp that sat on Damian's bedside table. Two pairs of blue eyes shot over towards him at his entrance.

"Bruce? Shouldn't you be asleep?"

"I apologize if I awakened you Father," Damian spoke quickly, his eyes falling to the blanket that was resting in his lap as he had sat up during Bruce's entrance.

"What are you two doing?"

"Oh, Damian couldn't sleep so I thought I'd tell him a story or two about some of our early cases."

"Alfred actually believed he was Batman? And this Mr. Marvel was an alien? What about that time you went to the future?"

"Now Damian we were actually zapped to a few different futures. –And then there was once where Bruce got sprayed by a plant then hallucinated sleeping for decades and dreamed that he woke up in the future."

"Hm, what has been the most unusual place you ever fought?"

"Ever? On the giant keys of a typewriter or maybe that asteroid that was circling the sun, that one certainly had strange creatures? I'm not sure…there have been a lot of strange places after all. Perhaps that dinosaur island…?"

Bruce breathed a silent relieved sigh and stepped inside of the room fully, "If you go through all of those cases, you'll have him up for a few days."

Dick chuckled, "True and it has been an hour. Time to go to sleep Damian."

The young assassin opened his mouth as if in protest but then glanced across the room at his father and snapped his mouth shut before nodding and lying back down.

"Of course, I have kept Richard's attention long enough. You may have him back father."

Bruce barely managed to not roll his eyes though he noticed Dick did as the acrobat reached out to tuck in the blanket. Hmph! Damian never let him do that! Wait! He was not jealous. Not jealous. He heard Dick wish the child sweet dreams before his eldest protégé crossed the room to stand by his side. How did he do that? He must have had that blank look on his face again because Dick's smile went from a nice-to-see-you smile to a quick barely-there frown before becoming an exasperated side-swiped-sighing small grin. They both simply walked outside the door into the hallway, Bruce closing the door silently behind them. Perhaps to an outside observer it would be particularly interesting to notice they moved in-sync without communication or even eye contact. Again, without words, they both walked to the end of the hallway, down the stairs and into the den where, just months ago-this whole problem had started. In fact, unless Alfred had taken it out, that same movie should still be in the DVD player.

So, without even asking, Bruce scooped up the remote from the large coffee table, turned both the television and DVD player on then pressed PLAY. Truthfully, they were both waiting for the other to break the silence.

And as Bruce expected, Dick grew impatient first, "So, any luck with the theory that Clark punched a hole through the fabric of space and time?"

The elder picked up the remote again and muted the movie, which he just now realized was called "The Home of Floating Spears." Who had gotten this movie again? Of course he hadn't really been paying attention to it all those months ago since though he was technically watching it he had been internally cringing and reviewing the vocal lashing he had gotten from Alfred the day before. Now he realized why Jason had left and why Tim and Damian had found that fighting over the snacks was much more entertaining.

"None."

"…"

"…"

"People are crazy."

Bruce's mouth tipped up on one side into a smirk. 15 years and it hadn't changed. Dick Grayson could still get some kind of emotional reaction out of him. Hmm, had it really been that long? 15 years…now technically almost 16? That was crazy.

"Indeed."

A chuckle escaped the younger's throat as he turned away from the TV screen to align his gaze with his mentor's, "Careful you almost sounded like Alfred there."

And up went the other side of his mouth into an honest grin. Silly acrobat! If he didn't make friends so easily he wouldn't be so dangerous to the superhero community…and people in general.

"Now don't go telling Alfred that," Bruce warned while raising a humored eyebrow.

Dick laughed before shifting against the couch and stretching his arms up towards the ceiling, "Alright but if he finds out I'm not responsible."

"There's no need for the precaution Masters."

"AH!" both men jumped back at the voice coming from the doorway.

"How does he do that?" Dick muttered as he looked back to see the Wayne Family butler standing there with his normal serving tray decorated with two cups of coffee, cream and sugar.

Of course, Alfred knew the future too. He knew they would be up for quite some time so he brought them caffeine.

"Give it up Dick, all of these years with him and I still don't have a clue," Bruce said with a one shoulder shrug as Alfred approached them and set the tray on the coffee table.

"I trust Master Damian is asleep?" the butler asked, his gaze on the acrobat.

Said acrobat mixed cream and sugar into his coffee while he spoke, "He should be."

Bruce raised an eyebrow at his butler, the question in the lines of his face. Unfortunately or fortunately, Alfred just smiled. Secretly, Bruce hoped Alfred never decided to take up a vigilante-gig himself. If the world was afraid of Batman what would Alfred do to all of them? Suddenly, he mentally reminded himself to get Flash and Aquaman to see to an inspection of the Watchtower soon. If the Butler saw it these days…well he didn't need to know at the moment.

Thankfully the billionaire could just grab his coffee as is since he preferred it black, ignoring the cool cream and sweet sugar.

Alfred smiled at both of them again before leaving the room, his footsteps echoing as he made his way back into the kitchen, the now empty tray tucked under his arm.

"Maybe YOU should try to talk with Damian," Bruce finally said.

A sigh habitually followed, "Bruce, you're his father-not me."

"Dick, if there's one thing this entire investigation has shown me it's that he sees you as a parent."

Another silence stretched out between the two, fortunately only lasting about 15 seconds.

"I never consciously tried to be his parent, Bruce. I didn't want to be."

Bruce grunted before leaning forward to set his barely-sipped black caffeine drink back on the coffee table. He finally allowed himself to sigh before he put his elbows on his knees and lowered his head into them.

"Bruce?"

Concern. Worry. Reaching out to him. A hand on his shoulder.

"It's OK, I'm just tired, not aggravated."

"…but you're still worried."

"How can I not be?"

"Seriously Bruce, why can you not just TALK to Damian?"

Underlying tremor to the voice. Aggravation. Irritation. Bruce wasn't the only one getting annoyed by the situation. Oh boy! Did he really think that robotically?

…

Yes. Yes he did.

Sigh. Too much sighing.

"Maybe if we both talked to him, together?" Bruce asked.

Dick raised an eyebrow. Could Bruce somehow manage a talk with Damian if he was there with him? The acrobat doubted it, even if they did manage to corner the kid about it. Sure, he could totally do the moral support thing. He had a lot of experience in that area. But would that be it, or would Bruce bail out and Dick alone would have to tell Damian the truth? And if he did would Damian actually listen to him? Probably not if Damian wouldn't even listen to his own father about the situation why would he listen to Dick?

"I don't think I spend enough time with him," Bruce finally stated.

Dick coughed out a laugh, "Bruce, you are the master of understatements."

Finally, a smile again. There was a little less tension in the air now. Thank goodness!

"Why don't you take him to the zoo? He likes animals."

Oh, why not? He'd try it. Besides, it's not like anything could go too terrible wrong. At the very worst some of Gotham's villains could release the animals, but that he could handle.

* * *

"BRUCE! WHY IS THERE A TIGER IN THE GARAGE!?"

Two deep breaths escaped Bruce's lips before Tim was in his study, his face pulled back in half-terror.

"Bruce," he spoke slowly at first before continuing with, "I would like to hear a viable explanation for why there is a panthera tigris altaica in the garage."

The man raised a surprised eyebrow at the teen.

"Animal classification in Biology class, blame the new teacher."

"Damian likes cats."

Tim's left eye twitched as his voice hitched, "So you bought him a tiger? You couldn't get him a Tabby, a Maine Coon, a Siamese or some normal cat? It had to be a tiger?"

"Well, he wanted the Black Panther but the zoo wouldn't sell it to me."

SMACK! And Tim's right hand was across his forehead before he roughly pulled it away after three seconds of frozen, silent disbelief.

"Bruce, we cannot keep a tiger!"

"It's just a cub."

"Cubs grow up!"

When the tech Robin didn't get any further response he threw up his hands and stomped out of Bruce's study. The billionaire sighed sadly and ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Great now TWO people are mad at me."

Yeah, Alfred hadn't liked it either. Bruce looked back down at the stack of paperwork below him before leaning back in his chair; letting the pen he had slip through his fingers and land on the carpet. He didn't particularly care if it left an ink stain or not. He needed to go for a walk. And yes, he did…all the way to his youngest son's room. Alfred had driven Damian and his friend Colin downtown to the mall, Tim's room was quiet so he was probably doing homework, Dick had been summoned by the Justice Society for a mission back in New York and Jason was…wherever Jason wanted to be-so the house was eerily quiet. Funny how he used to enjoy silence like this.

Damian's room was the same, bed, dresser, swords, poster, crossbow, art desk, hatchets, bookshelf, shuriken, closet, full wall of assorted knives. Same old, same old. And on the art desk was that book. The Wedding Planner! Oh gosh, why did that sound like a B-rate Harlequin romance novel? Probably because it was-he'd put his fortune on it! Still curious since he seen more than a few pages, he crossed the room and scooped up the book. Yeah, it was wrong to go through other's belongings but hey-this was HIS not-gonna-happen wedding! He should at least know what to expect.

Unfortunately, he had only made it to the third page when he heard the sounds of footsteps in the hallway.

"Father, why are you in my room?"

The billionaire glanced up from the pages he was glancing over and saw the tiny form of his youngest son in the doorway.

"No rea-well actually don't you think the wedding dress is a bit much?"

"Dress?" Damian asked, one familiar eyebrow rising in inquiry," Father, what…dress are you speaking of?"

Bruce didn't say anything in surprise, just turned the book towards his son who raised his other eyebrow in his own form of surprise, "That's not mine. Todd left that here shortly after your engagement."

"This is Jason's!?"

Damian slightly flinched, "There is no need to yell father. We are in the same room and yes, Todd dropped that off about his plans for your wedding. Do not worry though Father, my plans are nearly finished. Which reminds me, I must see to the elephant order."

"Elephant order!?"

"Would you please cease yelling Father? Do I need to remind you yet again that we are in the same room? And of course there will be elephants-Richard likes elephants."

Damian left his bedroom, leaving a gaping father inside completely upturned by the tide of events lately shaping his life.

* * *

"You two are doing this NOW!" Tim yelled while confronting his mentors, both of which were staring at him in shock.

This was it! This was the last loop-to-loop that Timothy Drake-Wayne was going to endure. This had to end!

"Both of you are going to march into that bedroom, you are going to explain this to Damian and everything is going to get back to normal around here!"

"Tim-" Bruce started with an authoritative tone before he was cut off abruptly by his son once again.

"No! In the room! Now!"

Both Bruce and Dick were going to defy the order but then Tim pulled out his bo staff.

"Uh, no offense Tim but-" Dick began before his little brother cut him off.

"This one's a Taser! Now get in there!"

And ouch! Tim had not been lying. And of course he locked the door behind them.

So here the Original Dynamic were, standing before a confused, wide-eyed ten year old assassin child that had been planning a wedding because…

Um, well they hadn't actually asked that.

"What has Drake done now?"

"He locked us all in," the acrobat said, running a hand through his hair.

"Why?"

Bruce and Dick locked gazes. _You start. No you start. You. You! YOU. YOU! YYYOOUUU! YYYYYYYOOOOOOUUUUUU! ALRIGHT FINE!_

As one would expect, Dick Grayson lost the staring war and made his way across the room to sit on the edge of Damian's bed.

"Uh Damian listen. This wedding thing um, I-We-we were….?"

"Don't worry Dad, everything will be perfect."

Would the kid stop calling him that!?

A sigh escaped from Bruce as he walked towards the bed, around it and sat down on the opposite side as his eldest protégé, "Listen Damian, we need to talk about this."

"There is no need father I have everything planned up and to-"

"Not about the wedding," Bruce grumbled, a twitch forming in his left cheek.

Oh, how were they supposed to go about this?

"Then what is this confrontation for?" Damian asked, though the look in his blue eyes as they traveled back and forth between the billionaire and acrobat suggested that he wasn't fully listening to the adults before him.

The acrobat took a deep breath and just spat it out, "Damian we are not romantically involved, we are not getting married, the box Bruce gave me was not a ring and…I'm not your dad so stop calling me that!"

The boy's eyes grew wide and he turned his gaze towards Bruce, "Father?"

Bruce Wayne slumped forward, "I'm sorry Damian."

Unintentionally copying his father, Damian slumped forward too, his eyes down, aimed at the blanket that covered his lap and curtained in the shadows of the room.

"Dami?"

"Get out."

"Damian wh-"

"I SAID GET OUT!"

* * *

In the end they had had to bust down the door, which Alfred stiflingly fixed later. The butler's mouth seemed drawn down into a semi-permanent frown. The house had been…uneasy. The Masters had finally come through and told Damian the truth. In response there had been a lot of yelling. Alfred Pennyworth had watched the mistake, had laughed about the humor and sadly hadn't deterred the youngest Wayne from thinking the mistake was the truth. Perhaps he should have but as he hadn't seen the boy so happy in his collective memory, he thought it had been best to let time reveal the truth.

Damian Wayne though, was now angry with everyone. Even the kindly butler. The child had actually declared the other day that he now had a hatred for Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson beyond that of his hatred Timothy Drake. At which point a few connections in the tech Robin's mind might have been jarred as Damian had said this directly to him.

The acrobat had returned to New York and Bruce had all but moved into the penthouse at Wayne Tower at this point. Sigh, what was there to be done?

* * *

"This is not good Bruce," Nightwing said as he reached up to pull the mask from his face.

Both of Gotham's oldest vigilantes were atop Palette Industries' Northwest Factory and had removed mask and cowl to talk.

"This is insane," Bruce grumbled, still a bit of the Dark Knight lasting in his voice, "I should just set him straight."

"Probably," the other said with a one armed shrug.

"…"

"…"

"Well, at least it's remained out of the media," Bruce said with a short sharp nod.

"Yeah, I mean could you even imagine us married?"

"We'd both be digging our own graves and planning our individual suicides by week's end," the billionaire said with nonchalant wave of his gloved hand.

The acrobat laughed because hey-that was total truth! One week and they'd be close to killing each other, if one of them wouldn't have accomplished it within the first few days that is. At the very least, they would drive each other insane.

"They'd probably have to lock us up in Arkham," Dick said, a smirk of humor dotting his face.

"…you'd still look pretty in that dress," Bruce mentioned, a mocking smile curtaining his face.

"You're lucky I'm out of projectiles," Dick said with a glare aimed at his mentor.

Bruce only laughed. A laugh Dick hadn't heard in a while. A long while. So he just let the dialogue flow.

"I'd die for you; I'd fight my way to the ends of Heaven and Hell and back for you Bruce, but I don't love you nearly enough to EVER wear that dress."

The billionaire chuckled in the back of his throat before glancing back over the city. So quiet. He wished more nights were like this.

And cliché, just as he had thought it, the Bat-Signal lit up the sky. On went the mask and cowl. Time to work!

* * *

He'd found the paper while waiting for a cup of coffee at Fluent Frappe. And it had brought back bad memories. MANY bad memories. It was colored orange and black. A thin piece of paper bringing the great Dark Knight to his knees was nearly unfathomable. The mark was so clear though…a large single letter was spread across the flyer, the lines of said letter curving into the shape of well-recalled sword blades.

"Hey buddy, here's your coffee!" a New Jersey accent called to the air between him and his customer.

Bruce Wayne glanced up and quickly slid the small paper into his pocket before grabbing his daily caffeine and quickly vacating the area.

It was only ten minutes later, when he was in his office alone and had instructed that his secretary hold all of his calls that he took a second look. The orange and black theme was still present.

"Must be a special celebration for the upcoming Halloween holiday," Bruce thought, running a finger over one of the stained corners.

And finally he convinced himself to read the lines:

_THE MARK OF ZORRO_

_This classic story of an Aristocrat gone hero jumps back on to the silver screen for the first time since March of 1940. Come relive the thrill and adventure of a childhood hero on October 12__th__ at the Britain Depot Theater!_

The remainder of the ad had a disclaimer about popcorn, nachos, fountain drinks and the location's arcade. Skip a few empty spaces and there were a few lines about illegal filming and mass producing from inside the film room.

Bruce couldn't help though but stop at the last line on the paper.

_Kids 12 & Under get in FREE!_

It made the billionaire gulp, certain now more than ever that something was…controlling his life. He had actually brought the thought up to Tim the other day only to receive the answer that life was naturally ironic and that he should learn to live with it.

Whether it was fate or a godsend manipulation, Bruce decided he would go. Besides, what better way to get Damian to talk with him?

* * *

"Are you sure about this Bruce?" Dick said as he watched Damian stubbornly walk away from them.

They were standing by the doorway that lead to the small theater's arcade having given Damian the money to get their tickets. It was true the place was nearly deserted and that hurt a small piece of Bruce's heart. Though he couldn't really understand why it did. It was one of those invisible things that needed understanding instead of explanation.

"No, that's why you're here. If I look like I'm zoning out slap me," Bruce ordered.

The acrobat across from him reached up and curled his hand around the older man's arm, "If you're sure?"

The billionaire nodded before they both turned to see Damian standing by the main hallway that lead to one of the two film rooms. He hadn't said anything to either one of them and they were both feeling the backlash of the child's anger. Bruce recovered first though, having had experience with a lot of it, and reached back after a few steps to pull the acrobat along. The child assassin quite violently threw the tickets when they got to the entrance of room #1. The normal human worker had been replaced with some kind of machine that sucked the row of tickets up like spaghetti. In fact the tickets got stuck, which made Bruce sigh as he saw one of the theater's few human workers approaching them.

"You go on in after Damian."

Dick nodded and walked around Bruce to enter the room behind the child.

"Stuck again?"

Bruce nodded as the worker reached out to pull at the tickets. Bruce smirked, reached over the man's shoulder and hit the machine a few times. It slurped the tickets up instantly after the third whack.

"Oh thanks!"

Thankfully they had all dressed down for this…weird occasion, so none of them had been recognized as the gold carrying members of the Wayne family.

"Not a…problem," Bruce said, his words slowing.

The worker tilted his head to the side in confusion, his black hair falling into his blue eyes.

The not-cleverly disguised billionaire just shook his head and walked around the worker, said worker watching after him in a state of continued confusion.

Bruce couldn't have remained standing there…

The worker's nametag said Thomas.

* * *

Inside the film room, Bruce reprimanded himself for letting his guard down. Both for the worker outside and for what he saw inside. Though he spotted a few elderly couples at the front it didn't take long until he had found the seats where his children were waiting for him. The call of "Father!" had actually allowed him to locate them.

Whoa! Damian was technically talking to him again! And sure enough, the boy was sitting in one of the theater seats, head turned to beckon his father towards the duo there. Dick was kneeling beside Damian. Obviously they had been talking quietly or more than likely Dick had been talking and Damian had been just listening. When Bruce reached them though, Damian motioned for his father to sit beside him and Dick got back to his feet before turning away from them.

"Dick, where are you going?"

The acrobat turned his head towards his mentor and smiled before raising a finger to his lips in the typical silence-gesture. Before the billionaire could speak again though the lights dimmed and the film began. The low light from the projector in the room above did allow him to make out Dick's form in the dark as he moved down the aisles of much-too-hard chairs and sat alone.

He'd left him with Damian.

…

Traitor!

Reserved by the fact that he and his son were alone, Bruce decided to just lean back and enjoy the movie. Admittedly the film didn't bring back bad memories. The movie hadn't been the reason for…everything. Pleasantly strange Damian seemed to enjoy the movie. Well, no CGI and sword fighting, though the fighting was quite toned down compared to their lifestyles, made for a good movie for the assassin child. It was 80 minutes into the film with a minimal 15 minutes remaining, if the ancient machine they called a projector in the room above actually held out that long, that Bruce got a shock. Beside him Damian had pulled his legs up into the seat and twisted his body so he could lay his head down on the armrest between the two seats.

It was a parental urge. That's all and it actually took about five minutes before he did but Bruce reached out and rested a hand on his son's shoulder. Sure that was it but it didn't stop Dick from looking back at the duo, smiling and patting himself on the back for a job mostly well-done.

When the film ended, the few people in the theater made their way out. Most talking about the first times they had seen the movie. Bruce noticed that the place was devoid of anyone under the age of 40 though. Too bad, kids would probably enjoy it. Though, if the sudden smell of smoke was any indication, it would be the last showing for a while until they worked on that projector.

"Father?"

The billionaire's attention went instantly to his son.

"Yes…Damian?"

"Was this the first movie they made of Zorro?"

"Hm, actually they did have a silent Zorro film back in 1920."

"Hm..."

Silence settled around father and son. Bruce looked over at where Dick seemed to be interested on the tapestry on the walls more than anything else. Traitor!

"Father?"

"Yes son?"

He heard a very audible gulp.

"I am-sorry Father."

"It's OK Damian."

OK, now that he looked at the general idea, he couldn't blame his son. Everyone deserved to grow up with two parents that loved them more than anything. None of the members of their vigilante-family in Gotham actually had that. Even those few lucky enough to have one or both parents, either one or both had an evil agenda. It was sad; if they weren't evil most likely they were dead. Thankfully Barbara had a father and even Spoiler had a mother. Then Cassandra-well, that story probably wasn't a good one to even mentally dive into at the moment.

Bruce snapped out of his trance when Damian moved. The billionaire's hand fell on to the armrest in absence of the small body. Finally he realized why though. Dick was standing next to their chairs, his head tilted towards the door with his hands stuffed in his pockets. Damian got to his feet, walked over to the acrobat and reached up to curl a hand around the man's forearm. Dick's hands remained in his pockets as he frowned down at the boy.

The child huffed and walked around the acrobat, down all of the aisles of chairs and out the door that lead to the main hallway. Well, OK he more or less stomped all the way.

Bruce raised an eyebrow at his protégé while he asked, "I thought he wasn't mad at you anymore?"

The acrobat shrugged but said nothing.

…Creepy. Dick Grayson being silent and calm was never good. Silent and happy was fine. Loud but ironically calm was even normal. This was disturbing.

"What did you say to him?"

"Nothing much. Come on, let's go."

Wow. Words!

Despite the weirdness, the billionaire stood up and followed his companion out the door, down the main hallway (now empty) and into the main lobby where Damian was leaning against the single large window, his breath fogging the area in front of his face. Instinctively, he reached up and wiped the fog away.

"It rained," he said when the two adults reached his side having tracked their movements from the reflections in the window.

"We should go out and play in the mud puddles," Dick said with a smile, reaching down to zip up his cobalt blue jacket.

Whatever had held the acrobat's attention before was apparently either solved or set aside for a more appropriate time.

"Tt!"

That made both Bruce and Dick smile and meet each other's gazes.

"Come on, Alfred should be here any minute," Bruce said, reaching out to lay a hand on his son's shoulder.

Damian nodded and waited for his father to move instead of running ahead. It was Dick stepping forward this time as they neared the door and held it open for them. Once the three were outside they all took a deep breath of cool air. The autumn brought a cool chill to the city, especially at night. Bruce reached out to adjust the sleeves of his black jacket and Damian copied him with the sleeves of his red hoodie. It made Dick chuckle and in response to that the child assassin reached back to pull his hood over his head.

"Now Dick, that's not funny," Bruce pointed out, a smirk curving up on end of his mouth in mock anger.

"I know, but it's cute."

A ringing suddenly sounded from Dick's pocket. He fished his cell phone out of his pocket, staring at the Caller ID strangely. It made Bruce remember that he hadn't actually brought his phone with him. He had left it on his desk at work after he had found the ad for the movie! Oh, he probably had dozens of calls.

"It's Alfred," Dick said in a confusing tone before he answered the call.

"Hi Alfred."

"…"

"Oh my."

"Is something wrong?" Damian and Bruce both asked in unison.

They glared at each other in mock annoyance that made them smirk three seconds later.

"OK, we'll see you there."

The acrobat said goodbye, put the phone back in his pocket and turned to his companions, "It wasn't a very strong storm but apparently strong enough to send the old rotted elm on High Street down on a produce truck. No one's hurt but the road's closed. We'll have to walk and meet Alfred and the limo on Evergreen Lane."

"We have to walk?" Damian almost whined.

"Hey, it IS good exercise," Bruce said, reaching out and steering his son down the street.

The walk may have been the answer all along because Damian finally spoke.

"I did not mean to upset you…Father, Richard."

"Oh, we're not upset Dami," the acrobat reassured, "Bruce and I were just…um not expecting you to-"

"Want parents?" the child said quietly.

That made Dick swallow nervously. Apparently his thoughts on the subject hadn't been that far from Bruce's. Wanting parents…it wasn't a foreign concept to the two of them. A very familiar one actually.

"Do you want to call your mother?" Bruce asked.

"Talia al Ghul is just as much a terrorist as her father. They are evil and we fight evil."

Now Bruce was swallowing nervously. OK, so it wasn't exactly an ideal position for a mother to have but-you couldn't choose your parents.

…or could you?

"Damian?" Dick said suddenly.

"Yes, Richard?"

"Look, Bruce is your father, I take over when I need to but-well I'll always care for you too. OK?"

"Very well."

Well, parents didn't get to choose their children either.

"Damian," Bruce said bluntly, stopping in his tracks down the broken sidewalk.

Both his protégé and his son both turned to stare back at him, questions swirling in their eyes.

"If you want Dick and I to be your parents. That's fine."

"Really?"

"WHAT?"

"Shush Dick."

"But-!"

"Father if you are lying to me I-"

"I'm not son, but listen. Dick and I don't have to be married or even in love with each other to love you."

In the corner of his peripheral vision he saw Dick's jaw drop in surprise. Well, he'd probably be shocked too. Since when did Bruce Wayne talk like that?

Damian frowned for a second, "But I already had everything planned."

"Why don't you save some of that stuff for a birthday?"

"Is Drake-"

"Sorry, Tim's birthday is in June," Bruce said with a smirk.

Damian looked slightly horrified before his eyes narrowed and he growled lowly, "I can wait…I can wait and it'll be worth it."

Dick met eyes with Bruce mentally directing the question: Should we be worried by that?

The billionaire shot back with: Probably. Most likely. Definitely. Yes. Yes we should be worried.

Damian turned away sharply, continuing his trot down the sidewalk as he muttered future maniacal plans beneath his breath. That made his newly acquired parents smile in exasperation. Dick though, turned a frown on to his mentor shortly after.

"What the heck was that about?"

"Dick, he sees as parents. We obviously can't change that."

"I thought we agreed that we were going to try to get out of this. You're his father, not me."

"I will be his father, but he wants you too."

"But, we're not getting married?"

"No."

"Whew! Thank goodness. For a second there I thought you gave up."

"Hey would being married to me be so horrible?" Bruce said, his voice taking on a similar tone of whining as his son's voice had earlier.

"Yes Bruce. Yes it would," Dick said with a smirk.

* * *

So as far as Damian would understand for the next ten minutes; his parents were business people. His Father stayed in Gotham because that's where the core of Wayne Enterprises was located and whenever Bruce Wayne had to leave for long and far away business trips his Dad would come home. The two often overlapping for 'discussing business' (patrols) and meal times. Bruce Wayne would annoy him with lectures about safety, training and education while Dick Grayson would lecture him about being social, making friends and enjoying life to the fullest. It would be a crazy lifetime but…all worth it.

The two adults rushed to catch up with their boy, each mentally planning out the next week. How were they going to make this work out and keep Damian happy? It was to be a long night of thinking. They'd compare notes in the morning.

They were almost to Evergreen Lane when they found that the corner of Evergreen Lane and Yeton Road had been flooded. Not by the rain though, a car chase had sent a criminal into a nearby building. Unfortunately it was David's Aquariums and Pools. The whole corner and a good stretch of the adjacent roads were closed by caution police tape and a good amount of bright yellow duct tape. Luck seemed to be with the city's citizens tonight as no one was hurt in this accident either, though Bruce was sure that David Avery was going to have a lot of paperwork to fill out tomorrow. It made him glad that Wayne Enterprises didn't insure the guy.

"Come on Father!"

The voice of son made the billionaire turn from his observation of the wreck and stare-yes stare. There was one other way to Evergreen Lane that wasn't going back to the Theater and all the way through 5th, Wallow and 4th streets-Through a 10 ft. wide, 50 ft. long dark alleyway.

"Hurry up Father!" Damian yelled again, already stepping into the first pile of dust in said alleyway.

In less than a second there was a hand on the billionaire's shoulder. Dick's eyes were as hard as steel as their gazes had another battle.

"Hurry up!" Damian yelled back at them, waving a hand to get their attention as he was already a good 15 ft. away from them and into the alley.

The acrobat frowned at his mentor before he too stepped forward into the alley. At the very least he had to go after Damian! Funny thing though, as soon as Dick caught up with Damian, Bruce was right behind him, his face grim but also nearly blank.

"Bruce?"

"Father, is something wrong?"

"Let's get out of here!" Bruce breathed harshly.

"Alright, come on Damian. Let's leave-this isn't a good place for your Father."

The other funny thing? The World's Greatest Acrobat had managed two steps before Bruce was next to him too, his pale hand gasping Dick's own and nearly crushing it.

"Ow! Bruce that hurts!"

The billionaire seemed to pay no attention to his protégé's pain for he just intertwined their fingers and squeezed harder. No it wasn't a handhold of any romantic affection-it wasn't even one of any form of affection whatsoever. It was one of…fear. Bruce was scared. Of course, a night of Zorro, the cold night, the fact it was so close to Halloween-Dick should have expected this. Then again, he hadn't expected the roads to be closed off and for it to lead to them walking a dark alley with so many parallels to that same dark night so many years ago.

Without stopping his walk, given the occasional puddles of water they were stepping in, around and through made that obvious, Dick turned to his partner, "Don't worry Bruce. Nothing's going to happen."

He even flashed the older man a reassuring smile that…didn't help at all. With every step though, the acrobat tried to calm the billionaire down but all he got for his efforts was said billionaire holding his hand tighter, just millimeters away from breaking a few of the hand bones he was certain. If some weren't already broken that was. What neither noticed is that the attempts to calm Bruce had resulted in a slow stroll even though for all mental stability reasons they probably should have been running through the alley!

Now the area was not quiet. Very far from it. Workers were clearing the roads they had just left and the trio could hear traffic up ahead. So perhaps that's why. Dick was too focused on how to possibly escape the literal bone-crushing grip Bruce had on his hand.

_Splash!_

"Father! Richard!"

Two pairs of blue eyes flew to the end of the alley, where both of their hearts jumped into their throats. A man had come from nowhere dressed in torn jeans and a big black winter coat with the hood pulled up and had Damian in his grasp with an arm around the boy's throat along with a 9mm aimed at the temple on the child's head.

Crap! Crap! Crap!

"Give me your wallet Mr. Wayne or I blow your kid's head off."

Great it was someone who knew them too. They were the worst kind. Bruce had frozen, stone still. Well, at least the acrobat was able to free his hand. Dick took one step forward, his eyes narrowed in concentration and hands raising to signal that he wouldn't make any sudden moves.

"OK buddy-calm down. Everything's OK."

"I want the rich guy's wallet-NOW!"

"Please sir, he's in shock. He couldn't move if he tried."

"Then give me your wallet pretty boy!" the figure snarled, clutching Damian tighter until a whimper escaped the boy's throat from the pressure against his collarbone.

"OK."

He was an ex-cop, he knew this procedure. Truthfully there was only a five dollar bill in his wallet. The only other things inside were some receipts and the typical Wayne-Gold Standard cards that no one could get access to without actually being a Wayne themselves. Yes, Bruce demanded that much security on their funds. It didn't take long to hand it over.

"The watch too."

"Sure buddy, whatever you want."

"I ain't ya buddy! Now shut up and hand it over!"

Another whimper escaped Damian's lips as Dick held out the watch, which the perp snatched up very quickly.

"Alright, here's your Brat."

This. This was consequence and short. As they had noticed before there were puddles around from the recent rain and some shoes had better traction on damp surfaces than others. The man did release Damian but with when backing up the thief slipped on the wet mixture of gravel. He tipped back and the gun went off.

"Damian!"

A second shot resounded out.

Silence. The gunman was shaking, his eyes wide and wild. He shook of the shock and ran.

Dick Grayson and Damian Wayne hit the asphalt, blood spreading out widely and quickly beneath them.

* * *

Shrug.

~Moonsetta


	2. Preview for IF

A/N: Hello readers, I'm working on the third story "IF" but it's still only about half way done so I decided I'd post the first scene from it as a preview.

Enjoy and please drop a review. Seriously, I have 14 on IT why is there only 8 here?

* * *

Preview for IF:

Damian opened his eyes just in time, his hands reaching out as he fell towards the damp gravel.

"Damian!"

That was Dick. The assassin's head snapped upwards towards the origin of the yell. As soon as blue met blue in the moment though, the sound of a fired bullet ripped its way through the air. The spiraling sound waves hit the back of his skull, giving him one heck a headache that the mugger was soooo going to pay for. Of course, before the child could turn his eyes back towards the mugger he saw the bullet that had released the sound embed itself into Dick Grayson's chest. The bullet hit high and to the right, turning the shocked body around in the air. The acrobat hit the ground face down. In the back of his mind, Damian was wondering where his father was. Batman wouldn't have allowed this to happen and Bruce Wayne definitely wouldn't have allowed this to happen. Not again. Not to his family.

But Damian had little time to worry for his father that was nowhere in his vision. He prepared to turn back to the mugger and pound his face in for shooting Dick but- the sudden feel of sticky plasma on the back of his skull made him freeze. Was that…was that blood?

He did manage to turn his head completely though as he felt his arms give out and his chest began descending towards the ground again. The mugger wasn't there. The man standing there now had paste-white skin, bright red lips and a permanent, crazed, mad smile. The Joker.

Who promptly laughed out loud at the boy at his feet before pointing his gun towards one of the alley's side walls.

Damian's head was already on the ground, but with an effort he managed to stretch his gaze in the direction the crazy clown was pointing-more out of curiosity than anything else. His breath got caught somewhere in his stomach at the sight.

"Father."

Bruce Wayne was lying against the wall, his eyes wide and clouded over…in a state of death. His throat…torn out.

Both…they were both-!

"Hush little birdie, don't chirp a word…"

BOOM!

Blood splattered everywhere. The pale body that fell over Damian had no head and the boy, out of fear or loss of possible retribution, found strength that he didn't know he had and scrambled to get out from underneath it. Once sitting up in the alleyway, he heard approaching voices. A lot of voices. When the first member of the street patrol stepped into one of the entrances of the alleyway, Damian reached up to run a hand over the back of his skull. Most of the blood that covered him was from the now headless figure. In fact, there was only a single scratch on the back of his skull, that while bleeding, wasn't very painful nor very hazardous in the least. So, there had been a bullet before his brain had registered the second firing?

It had only grazed his skull then.

"KID!"

Hands were shaking his shoulders…which were trembling in-Shock? Fear? Sorrow?

Maybe, parting his lips he tasted salt and knew that blood was metallic so-were there tears?

The rest of the scene faded into obscurity as dozens of other voices joined the figure that was still shaking him. He did sense a second person who reached up with something in their hand. It looked like a scarf and they wiped away the blood on his cheek. Unfortunately, the scratchy material of the scarf also smeared the blood into his left ear and eye.

"Sweetie, are you OK?"

Before he passed out from stress or…sorrows (he wasn't sure) he promised himself to punch whoever muttered the ridiculous statement in the near future and his thoughts flew to his father and Dick. What about them?

* * *

Review please or type up some theories, I could use some inspiration.

~Moonsetta


End file.
